The Plan
by Amanda Saitou
Summary: Joker finally finds out who his Bats is, and comes up with a plan that may change both their lives forever. Batman/ Joker romance.


THE GREAT PLAN

CHAPTER 1

WHEN UNDER THE MOON...

At first he thought it might be a good plan, no, idea (because he was not a schemer, so, obviously, he couldn't have plans), as he was too curious to watch HIM outside of their ordinary dances. After all, what a discovery it had been!

There he was at his place one day, pacing back and forth, barely listening to the news on the TV, and all of a sudden, something captured his attention. A reporter was talking about Wayne Enterprises and his playboy prince, when said prince appeared onscreen.

Just an ordinary rich bimbo, was his first thought, until he paid closer attention to… his eyes! Like an epiphany, the green eyes sparkled with knowledge, even with joy. He looked once more, just to be sure, because oh boy, that was such a revelation.

Afterwards, he'd dwelt and dwelt on his next step. He'd met his Bats in some occasions after that, of course, and he'd tried to spot this Wayne guy through the mask, with little success; so, it was only after much thought that Joker decided, at last, to pay a special visit to him, in his own place. But, amusingly enough, instead of making an explosive entrance, much like his style, he went for a different approach.

And so it brought him to the actual night, hidden under expensive pieces of prosthetics, green curls gone to the lamely bleached black ones and combed into something considered fashion, and dressed to kill, according to the girls giggles and very interested looks in his direction.

It hadn't been his original intention to draw so much attention, but perhaps that was exactly what he needed to make his task easier.

When Bruce Wayne entered his mansion accompanied by his usual escorts, though, all eyes and attentions were on him, specially the females'.

Only an extraordinary observer of human patterns as the Joker could detect the false smiles Bruce gave to all those craving his attention, or the eyes that remained impassive and trained, never accompanying his smiles. Bruce looked around him as if expecting some enemy to drop by at any moment, his dark eyes scanning while his smile remained in place, uttering words of little significance in order to sound as the empty and spoiled playboy he wanted everybody to think he was.

It was with some evident effort that the unwanted guest mixed with the crowd and denied attention to Bruce. He knew it would be of no use approaching when everybody else did the same. So he waited.

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Sometimes, Bruce wondered how long he could take leading a double life. He feared it would take so long that when the time came, as Rachel warned him, he no longer could live without Batman.

Was he becoming as insane as the madmen he was used to fight? Because every time he had to play his role as Bruce Wayne playboy extraordinaire, something inside of him cringed, some uncomfortable sense of not being himself. And then, when he was Batman, he just was. He felt so much more like himself, not like playing a part at all. So, somewhat, Rachel was right. Bruce Wayne was the real mask, and Batman, Bruce true self.

The strangest of all, actually, was how much he needed to dwell on these thoughts while playing his role, to have his mind away from these frivolities and uninteresting issues, from all the emptiness he felt around him. After all, people would be around him all the time, being he who he was.

Uncanny it was, then, that a certain brunette caught his attention in the middle of the crowd. There was no way not to look at him, and Bruce noticed with curiosity that the man was the only one in the whole place that hadn't paid any attention to him at all. He should be around his twenties, and seemed very comfortable with all the attention he was receiving.

Bruce felt luck then to have someone to share all those people's attentions with.

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"This a wonderful party, Bruce. I'm so glad you've finally invited me to your house." The graceful lady seemed to be an agreeable companion, but to Alfred careful observation, his protégé paid to her the same attention he was paying to his wine glass.

"That is good to know, Miranda. Now, if you excuse me, I have to settle some things to my butler" Bruce said, nodding in Alfred's direction and praising her with his utmost charming smile, which she resignedly accepted.

When Bruce reached his friend, Alfred gave him a quizzical look. "Quite a hard runaway, master Bruce. Are you unscathed?"

Bruce sighed. " Very funny, Alfred."

"Your friend over there seems to be enjoying a lot more your party, sir. Why don't you try and maybe you actually has some fun?"

He looked in the direction Alfred was pointing to, and there he was again. Following the loud music playing, the same young brunette from before put on quite a show, surrounded by in awe girls of all ages, dancing and jumping as there was no tomorrow. His body moved graciously and frenetically, sometimes resembling a kid on his playground. Bruce noticed that despite his lack of technique in the dancing business, his lady companions seemed to not mind at all dancing along with him.

The boy was brave, as several envious humph from male guests spread through the main hall. and he had guts. For who else would show off like that in a Bruce Wayne party, where all of Gotham's wealthiest and most influent citizens would be present, if not having guts for it? His face would certainly be in every newspaper and magazine in the next day as well, and maybe not with the best reviews.

He should've stopped the man, as the party host but… he couldn't. He envied someone who could be so carefree and spontaneous, when he was two and no one at the same time, in his own house. _Too serious_, as a certain someone used to say.

"Won't you stop him, sir?" Alfred asked.

There was a brief moment when both men's eyes met, though: the brunette smirked defiantly and Bruce caught himself smirking back, slightly.

"Let the boy have his fun, Alfred" Bruce said, leaving for most desired solitude.

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Bruce still could listen to the music playing inside even after half an hour outside in the fresh air, sitting at a backwards balcony of his mansion. He tried to focus on the full moon above in the sky, fighting hard his eagerness to put on his bat suit and be free flying around his city.

"Hello there?"

The singsong voice got him by surprise, making him stood up in attack mode, before he caught himself remembering he was not Batman tonight. Calming himself, he realized his 'guest of honor' was in front of him, coat back on, his hair in a wild but pleasing disarray after (probably) many hours of _that _dancing.

"You're Bruce Wayne, right?"

An out of place alarm rang inside his head, but he dismissed it, trying to be polite.

"Guests were not supposed to come here, Mr…"

"Sam. Just Sam. I'm pleased to meet the great Bruce Wayne in person. You're a …_legend_, Mr. Wayne." The young man grabbed his hand enthusiastically (_too enthusiastically, he thought_), piercing his soul with a deep gaze and (trying) to melt him with a charismatic smile.

"So, just Sam, if you don't mind, I just wanted to…" Before he could continue, Sam pushed him back to sitting at the balcony, and leisurely sat by his side. Bruce was wide eyed and speechless at such boldness.

"Oh, what a great night, isn't it? I imagine it must be wonderful to be able to have such a spot to just sit and relax… watch this wonderful moonlight… wow, that's so cool. Don't you think?" he said gesturing wildly with his hands and ignoring Bruce's stern stare.

Bruce felt like punching him right there. But his behavior was so childish that he decided, for idle curiosity, to see to what it would lead, for the moment.

"It's not so usual for me to come here. That's why I wanted to enjoy it tonight, _alone_." Bruce emphasized the 'alone' part strongly.

Sparkling green eyes stared at him. "Bet it's a hard job to put up with all those no-brains you must date all the time, huh?"

"My dates are of no concern to you, you know?" _Try to be calm Bruce!_

A knowing smile graced his face this time, a genuine one, and just then he realized how _beautiful _the young man was. Familiarly beautiful.

"Don't you worry, I promise I will be a much pleasanter company." The alarm went higher and Bruce stiffened. Sam turned his eyes to the moon again, locks of black hair enframing the ghost-white face.

At least he was silent, Bruce thought. Quiet ensued for about half an hour, only the music from the inside being their company. Why he hadn't yet called for security and thrown this man out of his party, Bruce couldn't tell. After a while, he was preparing to go back to the party and tell his 'company' about that, when he was surprised (again) by said company standing in his very front, too close for comfort.

"What now?" he said abruptly.

"Dance with me, Mr Wayne?" Bruce blinked three times before understanding the meaning of the request.

"What?!"

Sam inched dangerously closer, arms resting leisurely at his sitting legs. "Dance. With. Me. I love this song, we must dance." The same arms grabbed him to the floor, and held for his neck, pulling to the garden soil. "Huh?"

Bruce was flabbergasted. How dare he…? "He pushed the man away, breathing heavily. "Are you flirting with me, Mr Just Sam?"

If possible, Sam's smile widened, what, for some reason, send shivers through Bruce's whole back. He closed the distance between them quick as a raven, faking a most innocent face. "Me, Bruce, flirting? No, no, I just want to dance with you. Just that."

Bruce took another step backwards, crossing his arms over his chest. "I don't know what you know about me, just Sam, but I don't fling that way."

The brunette advanced closer, defiantly cocky. "You know, you like to imply things that are not true." Closer even. "Why, are you afraid of me, Brucie?"

Bruce sighed. The other smiled even cockier, if possible. Should he risk a fight and possible unwanted attention, or should he comply with this strange boy? "If I agree to this nonsense, you promise to leave me alone afterwards?"

"I'm a man of… I mean, yes, 'course."

Bruce closed the distance between them, grabbing Sam roughly by the waist. "Enjoy your time."

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"Sam" Joker smiled triumphantly, rocking his body to the sweet melodic rock playing, feeling all super in Bruce's arms. The song was sensuous and to his utter amazement, unlikely his bat persona, Bruce was … interesting, to say the least. Not so much as Batman, but still, worth his time.

They separated, Joker danced his sensuous dance, Bruce watched, the clown saw it, with a look he'd only see during their nighttime dances. He didn't mean to act on such shame flirting, but it was so much fun to just stop as yet.

As Bruce motioned to turn around, Joker jumped over him, in a mix of embrace and grab. "The dance is not over yet."

What eyes, the clown thought, before being held tight, spiraled, and held tight again, Bruce dancing so close to him, so tempting close, then spiraling again. He wanted to erupt in laughter, to show his utter delight, but he managed to contain himself, instead throwing his slender body against his partner, giving in to him as he'd never done as the Joker.

The music was long gone, or they'd gone into another without noticing, because it took exhaustion to stop them. And when they did, the Joker was in a dangeours awe at the way Bruce was looking at him. His bats…

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Was he getting crazy? The first music had long ended, and he went on with that madness, dancing and giving in to the young man, this force that dragged him to the unthinkable. That annoying familiarity again.

They stopped, staring at each other. Those green eyes were at him in adoration and sweet innocence, and maybe something more. His hands went to the dark hair, removing it from Sam's face, caressing the smooth skin, then tracing the way to his lips.

Maybe it was the moon, maybe it was his longing and loneliness, and next, his lips were in the other's neck, which was offered most willingly. He heard the intake of air as he tasted him, tenderly as with a first love, then his cheekbones, and then, almost coyly, his lips.

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It was so good and yet so painfully strange. He was in heaven, oh, boy, he was. Or in a perfect hell, he couldn't tell. It was not for him, things like these were a distraction, a weakness, but with Bruce, Bats, it seemed right.

He was being kissed, not passionately, not ruffianly, but with heart crossing tenderness, lips parting to deepen the kiss carefully, and if this scenario had not even crossed Joker's mind when he'd first had this idea, and if he wanted to burn Gotham to the ashes right now, he was actually quite enjoying himself.

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Nervous coughing interrupted their momentum, an astonished Alfred staring at both men in a very offended manner. "Master Bruce, if you enlighten me."

"Alfred…" Bruce looked at Sam/Joker and at Alfred, words faltering him.

It was the other then, putting his best 'I'm so innocent' face, who spoke. "We were just having a good, huh, chat going on here, Jarvis, nothing to worry about. In fact" he looked at Bruce as if apologizing "I was already on my way out."

Bruce was still dazzled as his companion left in a hurry, like a child caught in the act, while Alfred still looked at him as if he'd grown two heads.


End file.
